


Character Limit

by egocentrifuge



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: F/F, F/M, M/M, Multi, and apparently on a fucking heyhaus bent, look... everyone knows I'm a slut for joel heyman
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-20
Updated: 2016-05-20
Packaged: 2018-06-09 16:12:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6914161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/egocentrifuge/pseuds/egocentrifuge
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re, you’re with Funhaus, right? Elyse?”</p><p>“Yeah, yes.”</p><p>“I’m Joel, Joel Heyman.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Elyse wishes her palms weren’t clammy against Joel’s when he extends his hand to shake, wishes she had James as a buffer, wishes that Joel didn’t have the same dimple as her husband that was making her eyes wander in a really incriminating way.</p><p>The dimple that’s only intensifying, like Joel’s smile, which is—oh, damn—</p><p>“I mean, hello, yes,” Elyse amends. “It’s good, it’s nice to meet you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Character Limit

Generally speaking, it’s James that takes the most advantage of their open marriage. Not that it’s not something both of them want and have agreed to and discuss when there’s a problem, but for all that her heart and loins desire Elyse is—well.

She’s absolutely abysmal at flirting.

Not that she doesn’t try! Gosh, she does. And it’s working, she thinks, based on her well-documented interactions with Barbara and Lindsay on twitter. And, and Lindsay might not understand that it’s actually flirting and not just gal pal stuff, but Barbara’s gotta. Elyse’s husband is dicking Aaron, after all, so like… Barbara probably gets it. Maybe gets it. Has a better chance of getting it than Lindsay, anyways.

Elyse stares at her phone until her eyes blur. It’s not like she has anywhere to be until the boys get done filming their short—or touching tips, whatever—but surely she has better things to do than agonize over penning an appropriately coquettish reply. Her time is important, just like she is.

Elyse continues staring until her screen blinks into darkness.

Alright. Okay. Point taken, then.

At least the chairs on Jon’s set are more comfortable than they were before. Armrests change a lot. They make it easier for Elyse to sprawl out, to relax, to balance her phone on her forehead like proximity to her swirling thoughts is going to make it any easier to articulate them.

_**@bdunkelman** Have you checked your flaps recently because they’ve flown away with my heart. (90/140)_

No.

_**@bdunkelman** twincest is wincest and we’re not even related so that’s a double win in my book (92/140)_

No, god no.

_**@bdunkelman** roses come in a variety of colors / sit on my face (62/140)_

Goddamnit, even if she managed to get the meter right, colors doesn’t rhyme with smother—

“Hey, are you—are you okay?”

Elyse jerks. Her phone slips to ram into the bridge of her nose before tumbling off of her lap. Her cursing is drowned out by the sound of knees hitting the ground, followed by a much higher pitched series of curses; Elyse has the brief, terrifying thought that she’s killed a man through her clumsiness before her eyes catch up with her brain and she realizes Joel—not their Joel, the other Joel—has caught her phone and possibly caused himself grievous injury in the process.

How old is he? Is he old enough to have brittle bones? Is she gonna have to pay for his knee surgery?

Fortunately for her, Elyse manages to not say any of these things. Less fortunately, she opens with, _“Hey, man.”_

Joel stops in the process of pushing himself to his feet to stare at Elyse. Elyse clears her throat reflexively, but stops herself before she can do it a second time—or finish the not-quite joke.

“Hey yourself,” Joel says finally. He hauls himself the rest of the way up before leaning down to rub at his knees through his jeans. “This is, ah, this is yours.”

Elyse takes her phone when he offers it, holds it limply. “Yeah,” she agrees. “Uh, thank you. And sorry that you, you took a dive for it.”

“I’ve, people do worse to their knees for less,” Joel says. “Are you, are you okay, then?”

“Blowing dudes,” Elyse says, then, “Sorry, timing—god, I'm—ignore me, yeah, I’m fine.”

There’s a long beat of silence, in which Elyse examines her blank screen and composes another tweet.

_I blew it harder (5) / than you’ve ever blown a dude (7) / I guess I’m fired now (5) (84/140)_

Miraculously, Joel laughs.

“You’re, you’re with Funhaus, right? Elyse?”

“Yeah, yes.”

“I’m Joel, Joel Heyman.”

“Yeah.” Elyse wishes her palms weren’t clammy against Joel’s when he extends his hand to shake, wishes she had James as a buffer, wishes that Joel didn’t have the same dimple as her husband that was making her eyes wander in a really incriminating way.

The dimple that’s only intensifying, like Joel’s smile, which is—oh, damn—

“I mean, hello, yes,” Elyse amends. “It’s good, it’s nice to meet you.”

“It’s nice to meet you,” Joel echoes. His smile is abruptly gone as he releases her hand to rub at the bridge of his nose, then—reaches towards Elyse’s face? To touch? Touch her face?

Elyse holds very still like she’d seen Lawrence do at RTX, braces herself for the matching touch on her side—and gets nothing but a dull throb in her nose that is absolutely not matched anywhere else in her body, like for example her loins, when Joel’s thumb skitters across her skin.

“You’re, you’re ah, bleeding,” he says, which. Makes sense, Elyse supposes, considering there’s blood on Joel’s hand when he pulls it back to stare at with the slightly frantic expression of a man who didn’t think things through and is regretting his hastiness.

“Don’t worry about it,” Elyse says. She’s used to James throwing admittedly adorable tantrums, manages to reach out and wipe Joel’s thumb off without overthinking it. “It happens all the time. Do you need to sit down or something, man?”

“Cuz you're a--periods, yeah,” Joel says faintly, then, “Sorry, I—no, I’m fine.” He straightens—or at least, hunches less—drops his hand to his side in a manner that suggest he will absolutely not be using it for the rest of the day, and looks directly back at the bridge of Elyse’s nose.

“I, I need to go, I just wanted to make sure you were okay—and now you’re, you’re not—I'll—Burnie’ll have something, I can—”

“Don’t worry about it,” Elyse interrupts. “I’m fine, really. You can go.”

“But—”

“There you are!”

Both of them jump at Bruce’s voice ringing out across set. Elyse wants to turn and look for him, but she’s distracted by Joel’s expression, which is nothing short of—stricken.

“Joel?” Bruce calls, something surprised and—equally as panicked there. Elyse remembers James complaining about Bruce refusing to tell him who he hooked up with in Australia, draws half a breath, and releases it in a rush.

“Go,” she whispers. Joel meets her eyes.

“Go,” Elyse repeats. “I'll—I’ll cover for you, go!”

Despite having entered the conversation not knowing Joel beyond his face and reputation, in the moment before he turns to flee manfully Elyse feels a soul-deep connection with the man. She knows before he breaks eye contact that this encounter will live forever in her memory, because on this day, Elyse came to Know that Joel Heyman, founder of Rooster Teeth, distressingly attractive—just as awkward a piece of shit as Elyse.

“Uh,” Bruce says, tearing Elyse from her dramatic stare into the middle distance. “Are—what’d you do? Are you bleeding?”

“Yeah, I, I dropped my phone on my face,” Elyse manages, centering herself. When Bruce glances after Joel’s retreating back, she helpfully adds, “Joel’s going to vomit.”

Bruce’s gag is immediate, poor baby. Elyse hopes for James’ sake—and Joel’s, really—that he isn’t that delicate in bed.

And just like that, despite having started the day never having met the man, Elyse finds herself contemplating a certain awkward piece of shit mid-coitus with her husband’s boyfriend.

Good. Excellent. This is just what she needed.

_**@JoelHeyman** Hey I just met u / n this is crazy / We’re fluid bonded / So fuck me maybe, tho still with a condom bc im not abt that #BabyLyfe (140/140)_

**Author's Note:**

> find me at egocentrifuge.tumblr.com


End file.
